


Raining Roses

by Engiffyserce



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Old work, Other, mad king au, reposting this is satan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 18:38:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1698548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engiffyserce/pseuds/Engiffyserce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You weren’t meant to be anything-</p><p>He stumbled about the thickening storm. Trudging helplessly through the high waves of snowy tundra.  His thin and raggedy cape pressed against his body, frozen by the pelting weather, arms clutching around his chest. His breath was shallow and uneven, sight blinded with the hot and sticky blood streaming down from a severe gash across his forehead. He wished it was his tears blinding him, but those had frozen hours ago. It would hurt less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Freezing

_You weren’t meant to be anything-_

                He stumbled about the thickening storm. Trudging helplessly through the high waves of snowy tundra.  His thin and raggedy cape pressed against his body, frozen by the pelting weather, arms clutching around his chest. His breath was shallow and uneven, sight blinded with the hot and sticky blood streaming down from a severe gash across his forehead. He wished it was his tears blinding him, but those had frozen hours ago. It would hurt less.

_You were a failure from the start!_

                He had to keep going; keep trying. Either that or fall just as they wanted him to. His throat burned from dehydration.  Every step was pain-filled and took twice as long as he wanted them to.

_We hated you from the beginning._

                 The storm growing and he knew he would die within the hour if things didn’t change.

                Shit.

_You are no son of mine._

                A sharp wind lurched him forward, leaving him staggering and ultimately falling to his knees. His spine rippled with pain from the sudden collision with the hard ground. The young man stared up at the sky, eyes cloudy with something he told himself never to have-

                Submission.

_Ray-_

                He gave a small frown. Closing his eyes.

_You are banished from this family._

                He tried giving a sigh, but the exhale hitched as a sharp stab at his side reminded him of the broken ribs he harbored _._ His arms fell to his sides, twitching this way and that.

                This was the end.

"I’m sorry," He breathed, a light dizziness setting in.

                He found himself falling forward, unable to keep balanced anymore. He fell face first, even with his hands shooting out to try a catch himself, unsuccessfully. His hazy gaze fell upon a small rose emblem pinned to the edge of his tattered sleeve.

                His mother had given it to him. It filled his chest with a warm fuzziness that combated the numbing cold that held firm to the rest of his body.

                He smiled, eyelids starting to fall, heavy from sleep deprivation and blood loss. The last thing he could think about was his father’s heart breaking words-

_You are no longer part of the Narvaez clan._

 

* * *

 

"Ryan, what the hell are you doing?" A voice grumbled as his superior walked over to a mass of snow and fabric. The older man, kneeled down, giving a curious look, noticing the human who lay flat to the colourless ground. Strange.

                He sat a calloused palm on the unconscious boy’s back, noting the shallow breaths he gave. Ryan gave a grimace, pulling off the velvet shoulder covering he wore and placed it on the fragile traveler before starting to gather him up in strong arms. “Who is that?”

"Fetch the horses, will you Michael? And by the way, it’s ‘Sir’ or ‘King’ to you who shouldn’t question," He commanded with a playful sneer. The fiery brunet shook his head with a growl, trotting away in the other direction.  The king gave a grin, focusing his attention on the broken boy. However, that grin dropped immediately.

                Drying blood coated most of his exposed skin. The garb the darker boy held was frayed and covered in dirt. The almost transparent cloth trapped against the other’s body just so to give away how skinny the boy actually was. Both lower ribs and hip bones protruded awkwardly. The man could do little more than wince and move on in his inspection which gave similar results. Although, his sight did fall upon the small rose pin attached loosely to the other’s sleeve. He pulled it off to get a better look at it. Just as he suspected-

"Well well, Narvaez, I guess this is your lucky day."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray awoke. He glanced around wildly, unsure on what had happened or where he was. He was sure he had fallen in the blizzard. He was alone and there wasn’t much more than that. He was dead-end of story. Or, well, he should have been dead. The young man was in a stone room with windows made of coloured panes and metal bars. Soft, red curtains framed the areas windows. The bed was a fairly simple mattress with soft sheets lying on the cobblestone floor. There were a few tables and to his left with candles, a barred door, and an occupied chair-

 Ray awoke, gasping. His head was throbbing along with the dull ache that resided in his right side. His eye sight was considerably fuzzier than usual, but he chalked it up to the headache.  The traveler’s throat was on fire and skin cold, yet he could feel heat surrounding him. His torso was covered by a white cotton shirt and dark pants. They were warm and-

                Clean.

                He glanced around wildly, unsure on what had happened or where he was. He was sure he had fallen in the blizzard. He was alone and there wasn’t much more than that. He was dead-end of story.

                Or, well, he  _should_  have been dead. The young man was in a stone room with windows made of coloured panes and metal bars. Soft, red curtains framed the areas windows. The bed was a fairly simple mattress with soft sheets lying on the cobblestone floor. There were a few tables and to his left with candles, a barred door, and an occupied chair-

"I wouldn’t move around too much. You’re in a pretty pitiful state, boy," A fairly older man advised firmly, shifting in the seat slightly. His skin was tanned and worn, body toned and bulky, as obvious by the tight cotton shirt and leather pant. A rabbit furred saie sat upon his left shoulder pinned together by a silver brooch, the material flowing ever so gently when he moved. His eyes were a soft blue and seem to see, to watch everything. His smile was gentle yet overall expression eerie and none-too revealing of what he thought.

"Where am I? Who are you?" The younger managed, surprised by how rough and strained his voice actually sounded. The other shook his head, reaching over to a nearby table and grabbing a mug, bringing it back around to the injured man.

"Here, drink. It’ll help," He offered. The Narvaez was hesitant, but propped himself on one elbow to grasp the cup, not first without noticing the handcuff wrapped around his wrist, and drinking the lukewarm liquid eagerly. It was flavored with mint and a hint raspberry leaf; a pleasant surprise to the drinker. Though, after a second thought, he could taste the distinct bitter bite of Birch bark.

                They were treating him?

                When he was finished, he handed back to the elder who sat it down on the wooden surface. The other took a moment to eye the young man carefully, calculating his every word to the syllable. “Now, boy—to answer your questions—for now, you may call me Ryan. As I should call you—”

                He took the cue. “Ray.”

"Ray," The newly named Ryan gave a nod, running a swift hand through his dark brown hair. "You’re in the valley of Austin woods, the ruling land of Rooster. We brought you here after we found you in the snow on a daily scouting of the area. You’re lucky we got to you when we did—on whatever suicide mission you were on—you collapsed in the snow, probably due to exhaustion, dehydration, and blood loss." Ray nodded, rolling over onto his back, wincing with every stretch of his muscles.

"You broke most of your ribs on the right and received some pretty nasty gashes—" His calloused fingers tapped at the side of his temple, leading the younger to mimic the motion. His forehead was wrapped in a light bandaging. The fabric was soft, yet cold with a liquid the boy had become all too familiar with. "I’m surprised you made it as far as you did for as long as you did. No food or water, massive injuries, and terrible protection against the elements. And all the way from the Rose valley. Strong or really lucky; that is the real question. Never took the Narvaez as either." Ray shook his head, though regret it as the throbbing became immensely worse.

"I couldn’t tell you if they were or not. I’ve been—" Ray hesitated, feeling his throat close and eyes become wet with forming tears. Ryan sat very still, watching the other struggle with the words. He couldn’t help, per say, but he could be patient. The younger man took a shallow breath. "I’ve been disbanded from the family. I’m in exile." Every syllable was quiet and wavered. It was a sore subject, and the king knew when to back off.

"I’m sorry to hear that. Here, I found this on your sleeve—" He pulled a small handkerchief from his pants pocket. "It seemed important." He leaned forward, having the boy shrink away. He shook his head, placing it on the bedside. Ray sat up slowly as to not disrupt his bandages and picked up the small parcel. He unwrapped it, holding the emblem gently. A glossy, distant look fell upon him, leading Ryan to feel a twisting pity for the boy.

                It was a moment before he spoke—“Can-can I have my stuff? I need to get out of here. I’ve wasted your time and energy enough,” Ray muttered softly, attempting to leave the bed. He failed as the king’s hand grabbed his shoulder and firmly, yet gently, laid him back out atop the mattress. The Narvaez tried to fight it, but just as the elder knew, he was in no condition to do much of anything. He plopped back down, giving a glare. Ryan chuckled curtly.

"Boy—Ray—I would have never wrapped you in my cape and brought you back here for treatment if I thought you were wasting anything of mine. Besides, my Priest’s would be very angry at me for letting you leave in such poor health. Not only that, but if I were to let you go off,  you would die within a miles hike.  In the garb you came in, you would freeze. With the limited supply you had, you would starve. And with no map, compass, or destination, you’d be lost to the world. No, you’re staying  _right_  here for now,” The older man growled. Even if it were nonthreatening, it was still fierce. It wasn’t something he was going to back down on and Ray picked up on it.

                This man, though fair and gentle, could easily sentence him to tortures and worse pain than his father had put him in. The only thing that kept the younger man’s anxiety at bay was the fact that the man _hadn’t_  locked him up—for the most part—and tortured him. He was kind and giving and caring. He was nurturing him as if he was his own son who had fallen in the storm—drained of life. Ray blinked, nodding curtly. Ryan smiled, acknowledging him with a bob of his head.

"Good. Now, to take this off—" The man reached for the other’s wrist. The traveler shot up into a sitting position, jerking back from the touch. He hissed in pain as his torso twisted. Ryan winced, eyes flashing with guilt. "Easy. I’m just taking off the cuff.  Just, trust me for a moment." A key was pulled from his pocket. The elder tried again; though with more timed movements this time. Ray allowed it, but kept very rigid through the simple process.

                The iron piece fell with a sharp clatter, leaving a comfortable silence between the two. The younger calmed down, falling under the covers once more. After a good fifteen minutes, he could feel his brain become fuzzy with sleep; and it showed. Ryan smiled, shaking his head.

"You should sleep, Ray. You’re going to need it," He said, standing up and stretching, joints popping. "I know I need it as well." Ray gave a confused look.

"It’s not that late, is it?"

"You’ve been out for a solid day."

"You, stayed, to watch me?"

                Ryan grinned, walking towards the door.

"A Haywood doesn’t reveal his secrets. Good evening, Ray." With that, the man opened the wooden door,  disappearing behind it with a soft thud.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan visited four more times within the next two days before he was satisfied with Ray’s recovery speed. The visits lasted a good two or three hours at a time and were filled with the sounds of stories and smelled of sweets brought for the young man.
> 
> By the fourth day, he started complaining. He wanted to roam the castle.

Ryan visited four more times within the next two days before he was satisfied with Ray’s recovery speed. The visits lasted a good two or three hours at a time and were filled with the sounds of stories and smelled of sweets brought for the young man. Seasonal and regional treats from the many baker’s in the castle. [Though he found that yellow cake was his least favourite]

     The Haywood always kept his talk with easy questions— _How old are you, what is your favourite colours, seasons_ —while the Narvaez answered with short yet genuine comments, smiles, and the questions bounced back to the elder.

     Ray Narvaez Jr. was eighteen, single and quite sought for from the female community in the Rose valley. He was the the first son of the Duke of Roses and taught by the best scouts and warriors for battle. He was lithe and lethal when surprise was used, yet painfully open when face-to-face with an opponent. He, like most of his family, prided roses and their deep, scarlet colour. Spring was close to his heart due to the smells and greenery that sprouted so sudden. 

     ‘James’ [Or so his mother called him] Ryan Haywood was twenty-six, married with two kids and highly respected in the ruling land. He had started as a stable boy in the back of the castle, working his way up into the heart of the old king—Geoff, who was only six years older than him—finding him incredibly useful with animals. For an informal, but highly respected group of trained specialist called the ‘Hunters’ he had been their medic. The winter reminded him of the veil of life and death, so he swayed towards the long season quite heavily. He wouldn’t give much more than that. Though, he did answer this-

“What position do you hold in the castle?” Ray inquired, eyeing the older man. “You seem—free. Priest?” The elder’s eyes flashed with an almost devious look to them. The usually unreadable and chilly blue were alight with an old and seemingly familiar draw. The younger furrowed his brow slightly, trying to riddle out what it meant. It could either be that he had hit the nail on the head or missed it entirely; and the answer he was not so sure.

“Well—I guess you _should_ tell you. I mean, it doesn’t help that you don’t know.” The boy became nervous, over come by a sinking suspicion on what the man was playing at. He shifted in the fresh sheets, not to sure on what to do with himself. Ryan leaned in, eyeing around him as if there were some fly on the wall. “I’m—not too low on the chain of command.” The comment was almost sheepish. Ray fidgeted waiting for the impending answer.

"Does the name _‘King Haywood’_  ring a bell?” 

     The traveler’s breath hitched, sliding away from the other. He remembered now—Ryan Haywood—King of all Kings. The Bishops did say something about it all. Why didn’t he put it together sooner? He had been brought to the castle, wounds treated, clothed, fed, and watched closely. No normal man could have so much to give without thought. The boy groaned at his own ridiculous ways, scrubbing his face. Ryan gave a confused and slightly concerned look. 

"What?" The elder questioned. Ray gave an incredulous glance. The  _king_  had a sort of grin that would eat away at any friend’s patience when surprise news came about—

      _And it was working._

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? You’re the damn king! I’ve been treating you with no respect, no decency—Hell, I didn’t even give you the time of day the second talk we had!”

     Ryan smiled. “I don’t see this as a problem.” 

"Not a problem? It’s a big problem! You’ve had all this power and you stayed in this sort of mysterious veil for some reason I can’t even predict and you still are trying to hold it up. I would have fucking treated you better. Talked differently, respected your presence more. And for the past two days I’ve been treating you like shit. As if you were—" The heir shushed him with a soft chuckle and a shake of his head.

“Normal. You treated me as if I were a normal commoner; which is fine,” He soothed, running a hand through his brunet hair. Ray opened his mouth to say something, but now words were formed. “Now calm down; you’re going to pull something.” Ryan noted his surprise stricken pose, leaning back against his chair once more. Ray hesitated, but slid back into a comfortable position, taking a breath.

     By the fourth day, the younger man started complaining. He wanted to, at least, roam the castle. Ryan humoured him, touring the main areas with him. They walked through the main halls, the Court room, Parliament, and the bathing house. 

     It was a grandiose castle that had been passed down from generation to generation between a few different family lines. [Which lines the King would not answer] It’s base was a cobblestone and support beams a strong maple type would and brass connections. It’s hallways were lined with paintings of many things: Family portraits, age old philosophers, past and present top Priests, and even battles in which Ray had never heard about. Sculptures and metal decorations also littered their tour. 

     Their first stop was the Parliament Area. They stepped into a large room with rows of tables to where the Counselors, Advisers, and top Priests would sit and argue decisions which ultimately came down to the King. [Or whatever poor sap he wanted to pawn blame on] The walls were lined with torches and pelts from hunt, To the right was a large and ominous iron fireplace with golden goblets atop it.

     Next was the the Court room. It was brightly lit with a large throne covered in a velvety leather and studded with gold and accentuated with coal-dusted iron curls. Cobblestone floors smelled of heavy lye and the tinge of metal accompanied by soft stains of a crimson. The fabric and dark colours gave a certain ebb and flow that made the boy shudder with a cold fear of the king he hadn’t felt before—Something squeezing that wasn’t to normal standards. However, it released as a protective hand fell upon his upper back, gripping slightly at the linen. 

"Don’t worry—" The ruler started, eyes glued on the furnished area, remembering something Ray could only guess at; though he knew it was horrible. "What happens in here is only for the eyes of the prosecutor and the guilty; neither of which you or I will ever be. The ruler only has the job of watching." 

     They then toured the kitchen where the met a burly guy named Adam Ellis and a certain Burnie Burns who were helping out with the evening meal saying that [apparently] barbecue was only good when the hunter cooked his catch.

     Their last stop was the Dining Hall.

“Hunters,” Ryan called out, walking up to a group of four bunched up at a table. [Two of which who were throwing food scraps at each other] “Stand at attention.” There was a pause and then a round of ‘ _fuck you’s_ ’ were tossed to the leader, and Ray tensed, not sure how the king would handle it. To his surprise-

     Ryan _laughed._

“You assholes. Anyways, listen. I have someone for you to meet—” He nicked, shaking his head. He turned to the traveler and gave a smile, placing a hand on the boy’s back, pushing him forward. “This is Ray.”

“The kid we found in the snow a few days ago? Holy shit, there actually was someone under all that blood and snow,” The curly haired man joked half-heartedly, eyeing the kid. He wasn’t much older than the Narvaez. His skin was fair with freckled cheeks. His hair was a chestnut and eyes a soft chocolate. He was smaller, but muscled. [As his shirt let on] Ray stepped from one foot to the other, not sure how to react to that comment. “Glad to see you’re alive.” The younger boy looked up, giving a sheepish smile. Ryan moved away, sitting down next to the older two.

“Come sit,” The youngest looking piped, sliding into the one who had just spoken. Ray trotted over and sat as commanded. This one was slender—scrawny almost—with sun coloured skin and sandy locks. His eyes were a soft green, alight with excitement and curiosity. “I’m Gavin. And this brute here—” He pointed to the other, “—Is Michael.” He also held a strong accent.

“Hey,” Ray greeted, trying his best not to shy away. “Nice to meet you.” The eldest chuckled, the traveler looking to him in confusion.

“You know, bud, you’re not going to make it long around here if you don’t jump into it,” He advised. The traveler was met with bright blue, sunken eyes. His hair was jet black and scraggly, as if he had just gotten out of bed. His arms were inked in bold black and striking reds. Two small earrings hung from his left lobe and a rabbit-furred cape hung about his neck. In his mitts was a large mug full of some sort of alcohol doing nothing, but enlightening Ray to the man’s slight, drunken stupor.

"Sure, Geoff—You drunkard. Don’t listen to him, kid. He’ll claim the right to fuck your shit up because he started this whole mess," The last butt in. He was a larger man with ginger locks and a well kept beard. His skin was worn, but alive with life. Everything about this guy screamed smiles and puppies. It wasn’t bad, though, just—off putting. Not many men could hold such a light; especially not to this extent. "I’m Jack." He waved quickly. Ray smiled„ waving back.

     Ray found their warmness towards him comforting. Never had he  _not_ had to show his worth to someone. Or well, more like his father had forced him to show worth. Time after time. Ryan gave a soft smile to the boy before turning to the others.

"He’ll be staying here for a while. Until he recovers to my liking and figures out where he is traveling to, he’ll be under watchful eye. Those eyes, I have decided, will be the eight of yours," The leader explained, running calloused fingers through his brunet locks. "Hunters, meet the newest member of our group—Ray Narvaez." A round of applause sounded. Ray was taken aback at the absolute acceptance. It wasn’t a feeling he got too often. When things quieted down, a Q and A started up. 

     Geoff ‘Lazer’ Ramsey, thirty-two, to the Narvaez’s surprise, was the old heir to the throne. He, deciding he was tired of the reign, faked his death, grew a beard, earned some tats, got a wife, had a kid, and [re]joined the Hunters. He liked a heavy drink and naps. Naps were good.

     Michael Vincent Jones, twenty, hailed from the Jersey region of the ruling land. He was one of the best warriors they had, even though he was heavier on his feet than the others. He was loud, proud, and quite vulgar when he wanted to be. His nickname was ‘Mogar’ as he had taken down a bear himself at only sixteen. He was super close to Gavin and engaged to a Lindsay Tuggey.

     Jack Shannon [An area of fun for Geoff— _Shannon—_ ] Pattillo, a young twenty-six, lived on castle grounds all his life. He, unlike the others, was soft at both heart and fighting skills. He was the supplier and their critique of situation. He, if the Hunters were called to battle, was calculating distance and battle formation. He was also all about helping others and supplied a pretty large area of friendship and laughter. He was also married to a Caiti Pattillo. 

     And last, but certainly not least—Actually, no, the very least—

     Gavin David Free, nineteen, was from a distant land [specifically from an area dubbed SMG] and was absolutely ‘top’ at archery. He was awkward-footed and more limb than body. He wore bright green garb; not too big on the art of surprise. He was the oddly curious as well, asking if Ray had ever been called ‘X-Ray’. He found a comfortable relationship with a Megan Turney. 

     And, to Ryan’s disdain, Ray was given more information on the king and his life. Ryan had started as a Hunter when he reached a Priest position. Priests, as explained to the younger boy, worked in the knowledge and medical aspects and the Haywood was one of  _the_  best at both. He had saved the Hunter’s asses more than once, or twice, or thirty times. He was a good fighter as well. Cold and calculating when placed in the heat of battle. It amazed Ray at how caring the heir was compared to some of the stories he was told bringing back that squeezing feeling the Court room had given him.

"Yeah yeah, talk about me a little more, will you?" Ryan growled playfully, waving down a servant for a drink. "What if we dig up the past of you assholes. How would that sound?" Geoff snickered.

"Not much to bring up. Travel, beer, and shitty jokes. What more do you want?" He retorted, taking a swig of alcohol. 

"Yeah. Unless we’re going to have mock battle for the kid, there’s not much more to hear or see," Jack added. The table went quiet for a moment. All eyes feel on the King as the same devious look fell into his gaze. The young heir started chuckling, chin dropping and shoulders gently bobbing with the pitch of the laugh. Everyone groaned, using hyperbolic movements to show their distaste to the idea.

"Way to go, Jack! Open your big fucking mouth and we have to fucking suit up for one shithead’s amusement," Michael yelled, standing up swiftly and stalking off. "Give me five minutes," He called over his shoulder. Gavin scrabbled up, joining the older boy followed quickly by Geoff and Jack. Ryan, still chuckling, walked over to the youngest. Ray looked up, slightly frightened and discouraged by the loud boy’s reaction.

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked, furrowing his brow. The king shook his head, offering his hand to the young lad.

"Nah, the boys’ are fine with you. They wouldn’t have shared so much with you if they weren’t. They’re just obnoxious, trust me," The Haywood comforted as the boy took the help up. "Come on, you’re in for a treat."


End file.
